Trial
by PartyPenguina3
Summary: The Joker stands trial for his crimes in Bane's kangaroo courts during TDKR. What he finds surprises him. Oneshot.


**A/N: Chris Nolan once said that had Heath Ledger not (horribly unfortunately) died, we would have seen the Joker's trial in TDKR. I can only imagine that a trial in Bane's court would have been far more interesting (and fit better into the plot) than just a regular trial, so this story expounds upon what might have happened in that scene. **

While the kangaroo courts were usually vacant aside from a few stragglers (as most of the rich and influential of Gotham had already been tried) -that was not the case today.

Had any maximum occupancy regulations remained in place, they would have been broken long before even half of the people had arrived.. Temperatures rose as tempers did as well, leaving the place a sweltering mess. The courtroom buzzed with noise: Gotham's citizens howled in anticipation, shoving each other away in an attempt to get a closer look. Some screamed for his blood; some screamed for his freedom; some screamed simply to scream. This... went far beyond any of the wealth mongers' crimes.

The din died down as the defendant shuffled in, his head hanging limply in front of him as he was marched forward. Both his wrists and ankles were shackled; his guards practically had to drag him to the front.

It had been seven years since they had seen him at his first trial, and eight years since they had seen his counterpart. With his favorite toy out of action, he had not feel the need to escape from Arkham, thus limiting his chaos waging capabilities considerably. There were rarely ever any new pranks to report, and the police had done a good job smoothing over the wave of panic he had created before his capture; his name was barely mentioned nowadays, his story just a legend, but still immortalized by his inexplicable connection to Batman.

The sound of the gavel jerked most eyes off his figure and onto the judge. Despite lacking his traditional Scarecrow mask, Crane still managed to look quite imposing, causing a few nervous shuffles as his gaze slipped across the crowd. Crane cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses before he spoke; "Mr. Joker, and you are Mr. Joker, yes?" His only reply was silence. Crane sighed, but continued, "You are here on trial for crimes against the city of Gotham. Normally, this would be a sentencing hearing, but many citizens wonder... were there even crimes against the city? Was your influence truly so negative? Is anarchy _so bad?"_

Again, there was no reply.

His temper beginning to rise slightly, Crane tried again; "Why are you wearing an orange jumpsuit, Joker?"

The head finally lifted, a smile stretched from ear to ear. His tongue flicked out to lick his scars. "Well, I was just enjoying a, uh, _vacation_ in Arrrrkham Asylum. For about eight years. But, ah, I'm pretty sure you already knew that. Nice to see you again, Crane."

"Likewise. And _why_ were you in Arkham Asylum?"

Hysterical laughter exploded from the Joker, freezing most citizens in their place. Crane only leaned in further, intrigued. After a few seconds, the noise died down and the clown's eyes locked on his. "I'm going to let you in on a secret, Johnny... It's because I'm a _freak_." He giggled again and mockingly gestured to his clothes. "Do you know why I'm dressed like this? Do ya?" It wasn't hard to see what he meant. Over his bright orange jumpsuit, he wore a dark purple coat. Makeup was carelessly smeared across his face. "You see, they want me to look the _part_. So, when they grabbed me from Arkham -not that I'm complaining, of course, it did get _pretty_ lonely once you and all the other loonies were, uh, carted off to Blackgate under the Dent Act, leaving just little old me- they put on my siiiignature coat, they grabbed some greeeeenn dye, and they grabbed some whiiiite face paint. Oh, and some red paint too. Forgot the black though, pity... And _that's_ why, uh, why I look like... this."

His getup was ridiculous. The orange and purple were at odds; the dye dripped from his hair; many patches of skin were visible through the white paint; there was more red on his chin than on his lips and scars. Finally, the lack of black paint left him a bit washed out looking; he seemed more of a bloodied ghost than the anarchist who had terrorized their streets.

He shrugged. "It's all to remind you, dear citizens, that -ahem- I'm not normal."

Crane raised his eyebrows. "So... you were imprisoned for the past eight years because you're not normal?"

"That and I killed a few hundred people. That's about it, sack-head."

Lips pursed in irritation as Crane glared down at the self proclaimed Clown Prince of Crime from his pile of furniture. "I see your manners haven't improved..." he muttered. However, instead of retaliating, he persisted on. "Can you tell me... _who_ brought you to the crazy house?"

"Stop playing dumb, Crane. It's getting on my nerves," the Joker huffed in indignation.

"Just answer the question... otherwise, I might have to use a different approach..." Crane fiddled with a contraption on his wrist.

The Joker glowered at him, but responded anyways; "Uh, the Batman. He got a _leetle_ pissed that I blew his honey bunny skyyyy high. All I was trying to do was show him that everyone has a dark side too... Man, that guy just can't take a joke... Seen Batsy boo lately? I've been _dying_ for a chat."

"Did you prove that anyone has a dark side?"

"Yeah."

"Who?"

"All these questions are making me sick."

"Clown! ...It wouldn't happen to be a certain D.A., would it now?"

"Oh! So you have found all about Harvey Dent. I'll tell ya, I was really, ah, _torn in two_ trying to decide whether or not I liked him. Then again, never really had the chance. _Humpty Dumpty had a great fall_." He flicked his fingers to the unheard tune.

The crowd began muttering as soon as they heard Dent's name. After Bane revealed Harvey's true nature, almost any connection to his "good" image had become tainted. Thus, the Joker's knowledge of the bad raised their opinion of him.

"What did you try to prove with that?"

"What did I try to prove? That Gotham's white knight -to quote the Dork Knight, the "first legitimate ray of light in Gotham in decades"- was deep down just as sick and twisted as the rest of us. All of you people put up these, uh, _masks_, wanting to hide your trueeee selves. And all I wanted was to tear those masks off. Show how stupid following society's mores is. That everyone has urges, and there's no reason to resiiiiist. That you were sheep, following blindly to a set of rules, when the only way to truly live, is without _rules._" Evidently pleased to have the chance to preach his opinions again, his hands twirled as a finishing note.

Now more than a little riled, most observers began cheering after his spiel. Anarchy had become their life; it had become as natural as breathing.

Crane nodded, and raised his hands to the crowd. "Do you hear what he says? He killed many people. Friends, family members... But, is he so different from us now? He did what he wanted -he followed no authority. He tried to show us his philosophy. The same philosophy we now enjoy..."

The crowd cheered in agreement.

Quietly, so that only he could hear, the Joker whispered, "Introduce a little anarchy..."

"Excuse me, what was that? I couldn't hear."

"Oh, nothing."

"Hm. I see. I understand your position… But your fate is not in my hands." He stood up and shook his robes behind him. "People of Gotham, what is your verdict? Exile? Death? Or… freedom?"

An overwhelming cry for freedom erupted from the observers. A key was tossed to the Joker's feet. His eyes widened for a split second before they returned to their normal size. A nearby woman grabbed the key and stuck it in his handcuffs, removing the last boundary between him and freedom.

Bane pushed himself off the pillar he had been leaning against and turned his back on the crowd, walking to the exit. "Curious…" he mused.

His shackles fell to the ground. His shoulders began to shake, and what began as a quiet chuckle soon escalated to deep bursts of mirth; the Joker threw back his head and howled in amusement.

He hadn't lost the battle for Gotham's soul in a fist fight. After all, all the city had needed was a little push…

**A/N: Please drop me a review with any constructive criticism/thoughts! I use reviews to determine what kind of stories I should continue writing, so if this is what you like, please tell me so so that I know to do more of it. **


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